Sherlock's Huggy-Ness
by IanPeriwinkle
Summary: In which Sherlock is huggy, and John meets Sherlock's Mum.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, people. I saved my FanFictions on my portable hard-drive, so I couldn't continue them at school, and my friend suggested that I write this. It's a little bit of fluffy JohnLock – And ****_boy_****, do I feel sorry for Mycroft. This is based after 'Reichenbach Fall'.**

**I have small references to various other FanFictions in this, such as the word 'huggy', which is used by Wally to describe James. I think it's sweet, anyway. **

John smiled against the pale cheek of his now-lover. He felt the man breathe in deeply, and his eyes drifted from the television over to Sherlock. The man in his lap was breathtakingly beautiful – Most people commented that his eyes were too small; His mouth, too large. But none of that mattered to John.

"Mm… This show is utterly ridiculous – _Why _are we watching it?"

"Because _I _like it, and you want to make me happy."

"Yes, that would be it," Sherlock chuckled. His eyes lit up; After the fall, he'd become so… _happy_. He was warm, and nice, and _friendly_.

"Besides which, Batman's a detective. You two should be drawn to each-other!"

The tall man mock-scowled, "_He _is an ignorant, American child, born into wealth. He and I have nothing in common."

"But it's Batman! It's all in good – "

John was cut off by a soft peck to the lips. He suddenly found himself straddled by a large and very _huggy _Sherlock.

Sherlock's eyes were opened wide, and his mouth was in a small, cheeky grin. "Let's _play_, John."

Sighing, John smiled, closed his eyes, and placed his lips onto Sherlock's. He felt the man squirm beneath his, and reached behind his head to play with the smooth, dark locks of hair that now fell to Sherlock's chin.

It was the knocking at the door that drew them away from each-other. John slouched off the couch, having slight difficulty getting out from under his uncooperative lover.

"_Don't _get it, John. It's not worth it!"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist, and the doctor fell to the floor.

"Sherlock! Get off me!"

"No."

The voice from outside decided to join the conversation: "Get the bloody hell out here, Sherlock!"

"Go away, Mycroft." Sherlock pouted. The brothers' relationship had been… hindered by Sherlock's faked death, to say the least. Instead of tolerating each-other with a certain amount of spite, the two now attempted to avoid each-other at all costs. John couldn't tell whether Mycroft was here for business, or pleasure; Though by the tone he used, it wouldn't matter either way.

"Sherlock, I know that you despise me, because at the moment, I feel the same way about you. However, this is not to do with our little _spat_."

"Then what is it, Mycroft!? I'm enjoying the company of my," He deliberately dragged out the word, "_boy-friend_, and do not wish to be bothered!"

"_Oh, shut up_! Stop being such a child. Mummy wants us to come over for dinner. I've told her about your new… _interest_… and she would like to meet him."

"_You didn't_!"

"I did."

Sherlock and John stood in front of the old house. John could how tense his lover was, even standing a good metre away. Sherlock seemed to have decided that he wanted to keep as far away from John as possible – But John knew better. Sherlock had strange ways of showing his feelings; And John knew that the reason for the distance was for his own protection.

"Oh, _Shirley_!" A feminine voice called. John turned to see an elderly woman coming around the side.

"Mo-_ther_," Sherlock moaned, "How many times do I have to tell you _not _to call me that?"

"Oh, shush. You never objected as a child!"

"_That _was because I was a _child_! I'm a grown man, now."

"Nonsense," Sherlock's mother simpered, "You'll always be my little boy!"

She pushed Sherlock to the side, and bustled over to John, who had been staring, bemused, at their conversation. "And _you_ must be Shirley's friend! Mycroft told me _ever _so much about you," She took John's hand in her own, "I hear that you were a doctor in the war! That must have been _terrifying_," Sherlock gave a derisive snort.

"Mother, about that," He began.

A black car pulled up in the spot that had only just been vacated by the taxi in which Sherlock and John had arrived in.

Mycroft sat opposite from Sherlock, holding his mother's teacup in one hand, while balancing a piece of cake precariously on his left knee.

"Shouldn't you be watching your weight?" Sherlock teased.

"Didn't you want to say something to Mother?" The older brother countered, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Sherlock growled. "Yes, there was – And I would have told her before you _rudely _interrupted me."

"Well, go on then."

John felt Sherlock tense up – Instinctively he reached over and took his lover's hand, stroking it carefully.

"Mother, I – "

"He's gay," John said, before Sherlock could finish.

Sherlock turned, wide-eyed to John.

"With me. Mrs Holmes, your son, Sherlock, is gay, and I am very much in love with him."

The woman stared at John like he was some foreign creature.

"And I would like to ask your permission," John took a deep breath, "To marry him."

**Um, so... This didn't turn out... ****_overly _****fluffy, but I hope that you enjoyed it anyway. I'm not planning on continuing it, but if you'd like me to, then you can go ahead and put some text in the cute little box below, asking me to. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, a massive lot of you asked me to continue this – So here you go! This is Sherlock and John travelling to Spain to get married… And… Um… Yeah. I'[m sorry about the slight lack of continuity between the following parts – My writing is a bit disjointed at the moment. Also, I will be taking a one-month break from updating (probably) from December 7****th**** to early January.**

**Yes, 'marriable' is not a word, but it ****_does _****sound like something that John would say.**

People stared at the couple walking through the over-crowded, hot airport. Not because they were strange – Well, obviously, they were, but… No. People weren't staring at them because of that. They were just, so, _happy_.

"Sherlock, I'm really starting to think that we should have taken up your brother on his offer."

"What? And allow him the satisfaction of being _better _than us? No, thank you."

"But –" John gulped, nervously looking around, "People are _looking_."

"So let them look! You are a beautiful man, and you deserve to be looked at."

"But –"

"No 'buts'."

Sherlock linked his arm through John's, and led him through to the carousel, where they collected their bags, and caught a taxi to the hotel.

"Oh, _Shirley!_" John heard Sherlock's mother, Joan, call from an upper level of the hotel. He looked up to see her hanging from a balcony. "John, too! Oh, you're late! I was afraid something may have happened."

John smiled; He'd learned, in the short time that he'd known Joan, that she had a tendency to overreact to everything. He waved at her, as Sherlock bustled about, trying to get the bags out of the trunk. John still couldn't believe that Sherlock had brought _eyeballs _with them –But what he wondered more was how they got past customs.

"_John! _You're the one who insisted on travelling to Spain for our wedding; Now help me get these bags inside."

Chucking, John turned back to his fiancé and broke out into a large grin when he saw Sherlock struggling with his own bag. The doctor reached over to assist his fiancé, accidentally brushing against Sherlock's waist.

"John, do you mind waiting until we're in our room to begin… _Groping_ me?"

"Oh, shush."

Harry laughed at John's pained expression as he watched Mycroft and Sherlock arguing. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mycroft hadn't yet forgiven him for the tea stain on his trousers.

"… I don't want you getting _hurt_, Sherlock – Why can't you understand that?"

"Because for most of my life, you've done nothing but _hurt _me!"

"You and I both know that's not true."

Mycroft made to grasp Sherlock's hand, but Sherlock moved away; Suddenly seeming frightened.

John growled, and moved towards them, suddenly feeling Harry's hand on his back.

"John, calm down – They're siblings; It's their job to fight."

"I suppose you're right," John amended, and turned to speak with Harry, ignoring the fighting brothers behind him.

When John had told Joan and Mycroft of his feelings towards Sherlock, the reactions had been… mixed, to say the least.

Mycroft's hand had slipped, only slightly, but still enough to spill tea all down his trousers' leg – Joan, however, had been delighted! She had smiled broadly, rushed over and gripped John's free hand in her two bony ones.

"Thank you," She had said with teary eyes, "Thank you, so much!"

Of course Sherlock would decide, the morning of their wedding day, to wake John up at three in the morning with his violin. Sherlock maintained that he deserved to be able to do as he wished, as _he _was the bride. John maintained that Sherlock's name was now 'Bridezilla'; A name which Sherlock regarded with deep scorn.

"Really, John," Sherlock scoffed, "You'd think a _doctor _would be able to think of a more original name."

"Oh, shut up! What are you doing up so early, anyway?"

"I… I was…" A light blush dusted Sherlock's cheeks.

John sighed, "It's okay if you're nervous, darling. This _is _a big commitment."

"I know that!" Sherlock snapped, "I was just…"

"Yeah, yeah."

John turned over and tried to sleep again, smiling sleepily when he felt skinny arms wrap around his middle.

Harry bit her tongue and clucked disapprovingly as she tied John's bow-tie with deep concentration.

"You know, John," She said, "I never pictured you as one for getting married. I honestly never thought this day would come!"

"Why not? Is there something particularly… _not marriable _about me?"

"Well, yes."

"What?"

"Never mind, John." Harriet finished the argument, and turned John around once. "You look gorgeous; Let's go get you married!"

_Sherlock looks stunning_, John thought to himself, when he saw the taller man being led down the aisle by a very disgruntled Mycroft.

The man's long, curly hair had been pulled into a short pony-tail by Joan, and his neck, for once, sported tie; Nobody could convince him to wear a bow-tie, so they'd settled for a loosely tied business tie.

As the priest said his lines, looking thoroughly bored for the entirety, Sherlock couldn't stop watching John – He was beautiful.

"I do."

"I do."

And they kissed, and the crowd cheered. They were in love; Nobody could deny it (or "Nobody could deny it and remain accurate" as Sherlock had corrected) – The two were happy.

And they wanted nothing more.

(Except maybe for Mycroft and Sherlock to stop fighting, in John's case)


End file.
